Bible and film

Today’s student essay for THEOREL 101/G (our Bible and Popular Culture course) comes from Dario Davidson. Dario has taken that well known biblical story of Adam and Eve’s temptation (Genesis 3) and read it alongside the movie, The Matrix. The result? A wonderfully creative analysis of both the film and the biblical narrative, which brings new meaning and insights to both texts.

So read on, and enjoy!

Adam and Eve Chose the Red Pill

Dario Davidson

The Garden of Eden is an integral part of the Bible in modern culture. The dramatic conclusion of Genesis is the backdrop for what is now universally known as “Original Sin”. Adam and Eve’s choice represented God’s creation rebelling for the first time by succumbing to temptation and consuming the forbidden fruit. This story has a long and diverse cultural afterlife. In 1999, in a radical retelling of Genesis Three, the dystopian science fiction film “The Matrix” was released. Based on The Wachowski brothers’ 1997 script, it encompassed the ongoing debate regarding artificial intelligence, with a strong anchor in Descartes’ original venture into metaphysics. The Matrix confronted audiences with the uncomfortable possibility that reality was an entirely subjective term. Beyond the initial focus on robots and digital worlds, it becomes clear that this story is a bold reimagining of Mankind’s fall from grace. It did so by invoking the same fundamental thematic setting and character arcs but presented them from an inverted perspective.

Our Eden in this case is a computer-generated simulation of late twentieth century Earth, known as The Matrix, being simultaneously experienced by all humans. The Matrix’s version of God is the Artificial Intelligence. It is a multitude of entities driven by a single consciousness, with a stranglehold on the reality of every living person. It exerts its will through a host of programs, one of which is Agent Smith. Adam and Eve are clearly manifested in the Matrix’s protagonist, Thomas and his love-interest, Trinity. No Garden of Eden is complete without a serpent. The Matrix gives us Morpheus: a man both vilified and hunted by A.I., it is he who presents Thomas with the forbidden fruit of knowledge. All the fundamental characters are being represented. Upon closer inspection it becomes clear that The Matrix and Genesis Three have thematic similarities that are clearly more than coincidental.

Thomas/Neo and Morpheus

“So, the lord God caused the man to fall into a deep sleep” (Genesis 2:21)

Before Eve, Adam was not alone in the garden. He was surrounded by all the animals God had created and lived among them. Despite this, he feels lonely and incomplete. “But for Adam, no suitable helper was found.” (Genesis 2:20). Eve is made while Adam sleeps. It is the creation of his paramour that eases his restlessness. Thomas A. Anderson is a computer programmer living in New York city. He is painfully ordinary, and like most technologically-inclined people of the late nineties, a loner. He lives in The Matrix, unaware of the world outside of it. He is surrounded by people, but ultimately isolated from them. In the first act of The Matrix, several scenes show Thomas waking from various dreams. They are intentionally shown to confuse the viewer between what is a dream and what is reality. Upon waking from one such dream-like experience, Thomas meets Trinity, who, as well as having an obviously biblical name, comes to him with the temptation of true knowledge. Much like Eve did in Genesis 3, she tells him that knowledge lies in defiance of the law. The crucial turning point for Thomas in the first act of the Matrix is his decision to trust Trinity over the authorities of the world. He knows she is a notorious, criminal computer hacker. Despite this, his thirst for knowledge pushes him to trust her at the risk of being “exiled” from society. Adam knew that the consequence of disobeying God would be severe, but he trusted Eve and sought truth over compliance.

“Now the serpent was more crafty than any of the wild animals the Lord God had made” (Genesis 3:1).

The serpent has long been branded the culprit behind mankind’s first temptation. He lurked in the shadows, relying on wit and cunning instead of brawn. It is towards the climax of the first Act that Trinity brings Thomas to Morpheus. Morpheus, in Greek mythology, refers to the God of dreams; a shrewd title for the man who seeks to free Thomas from the ‘dreamworld’ of The Matrix. Morpheus is relentlessly hunted by A.I for his ongoing defiance. During his interrogation of Thomas, Agent Smith describes Morpheus as “the most dangerous man alive”. Although it is clear that the A.I. considers Morpheus an adversary, he is not Satan. Indeed, Genesis never claims that the serpent is Satan either. It is only a much later Christian tradition to describe the serpent as synonymous with Satan (Tate, 1992). However, Morpheus does fulfil virtually the exact role as the serpent in Eden, by acting in direct opposition to the will of God.

Morpheus offers Neo a choice of red or blue pill

First, Morpheus finds Trinity, who in turn, finds Thomas and tells him that she knows the answers he has been seeking. In Genesis, Eve ate the fruit first, and then tempted Adam. In the climax of the first act, we see Morpheus offer Neo two pills, the red pill and the blue pill. The red pill represents the tree of knowledge from the Garden. Morpheus promises Neo that he offers him “The truth, nothing more”. The blue pill will return him to his life of ignorant bliss. Here, it is Morpheus who acts as the archetypal challenger of faith. Morpheus and the serpent even have the same view of the Garden, perceiving it as a restriction of liberty instead of a paradise. This is heavily reflected in the choice of words used by Morpheus upon freeing Thomas. The serpent says, “For God knows that when you eat from it your eyes will be opened” (Genesis 3:5). When Thomas first exits The Matrix, he asks why his eyes hurt, to which Morpheus replies “you’ve never used them before”.

“But you must not eat from the tree of the knowledge of good and evil, for when you eat from it you will certainly die.” (Genesis 2:17).”

In Genesis, God makes laws based on a lie and deceives Adam and Eve about the nature of their existence. Upon eating the fruit, they do not die but instead realize the nature of their reality; in this instance, that they are naked. Whether or not being naked in Eden is bad or good is a moot point. The fact is that it is true,and they now recognize it as such.

When Thomas is initially awoken from the artificial world inside The Matrix, he sees the true hellscape that the real world has become. The sky is blackened with thick clouds of smoke. The ground is scorched and devoid of all life. Having lived in a simulation of relative peace his whole life, the sight before him rocks him to his core. He has ceased to live in the Matrix and is now aware of the true nature of reality.

The A.I. has removed humanity’s burden of existing in a polluted and desolate world by trapping them inside The Matrix. The few humans who have escaped live harsh, fearful lives compared to their enslaved counterparts. When Adam and Eve are exiled, God inflicts suffering upon them in the form of painful childbirth, and a life of labour. But like Adam, to Thomas, truth is more important than comfort. Thomas resents the A.I. for keeping humans ignorant and seeks to free them all. God wanted subservience from mankind in exchange for their peaceful and oblivious existence. This is the nature of the A.I. controlling the Matrix: it only seeks to exploit people for the power they can provide it. Much like an all-powerful God demanding unquestioning obedience and worship, its power within the Matrix is virtually limitless. By illustrating Thomas and the rest of humanity as slaves, the Wachowskis were trying to challenge the usual depiction of Adam and Eve’s disobedience not as a failure, but instead as a revolution against tyranny.

Neo makes his choice

The Matrix can provide a new way of examining Genesis 3 for modern audiences. Through the depiction of a disillusioned and incomplete man, we get an understanding of Thomas’ yearning for truth. Despite his relative comforts and luxuries, there is a profound lack of meaning in his life. It was Trinity who came to him with the promise of fulfilment and truth. Morpheus gave Thomas the chance to opt out, and to continue living as a servant, but Thomas was compelled to seek answers. The A.I fulfilled its role as the great deceiver, imprisoning the entire human race out of self-interest. Omnipotent and omnipresent, it was swift to exact judgement on humans it deemed disobedient. Through their script, the Wachowskis were trying to illustrate the immorality of Genesis Three. The fact that mankind was deceived from the start suggests not benevolence on God’s part but an egocentric agenda. Adam and Eve chose the ‘red pill’, were cursed by God, and cast out of Eden forever. Adam was forced to labour and work the earth while Eve suffered terrible pain in bearing children. Nevertheless, they were together, and they knew truth.

THOMAS/NEO “I can’t go back, can I?”

MORPHEUS “No. But, even if you could, knowing what you know now, would you really want to?”

Today’s essay continues our theme of contemporary messiahs, or super saviours, which we’ve explored over thepastfewdays. What makes this one a little different though is that the super saviour figure appears in a Japanese animated fantasy film, Princess Mononoke (more details here), rather than the more typical Western superhero brand. The author of this fab essay is Isabelle Steinman, who hails from sunny Hawke’s Bay. Isabelle is studying a Bachelor of Arts and Science conjoint, majoring in mathematics, physics, and philosophy. She hopes to carry on to do postgraduate study and likes the idea of working in academia one day. She took our Bible and Pop Culture class because, although an atheist, she has always been interested in religion, particularly religious art and architecture, and is fascinated by the impact that religion has on everybody’s lives, regardless of their personal beliefs.

Although I’ve never seen Princess Mononoke myself, Isabelle’s essay has made me want to watch it – so, whether or not you are familiar with this film, I’m sure you’ll enjoy reading what she has to say.

Ashitaka

Princess Mononoke– a Story of Gods, Demons and a Cursed Messiah

Isabelle Steinmann

Messiahs are everywhere in pop-culture. Characterised by a selfless passion for justice, a black and white moral code, extraordinary powers and an outsider status they maintain a strong connection with divinity or spirituality whilst remaining human. (Reinhartz, 2009). These Christ figures appear not only in Western culture but also in the East as is demonstrated in Hayao Miyazaki’s 1997 animated film, Princess Mononoke.

After being cursed while killing a demon that was attacking his tribe, Ashitaka is forced to cut his hair, leave his people and journey far to the West in order to meet his fate. He arrives in a land caught in a struggle between the humans of Irontown and the gods of the forest. As he is able to move between the warring sides, he befriends both San, the ‘daughter’ of the wolf god Moro, and Lady Eboshi, the mistress of Irontown. Ashitaka possesses many Christ-like qualities. He is set apart from other characters by his unusual ways and his extraordinary strength and he is driven by a commitment to justice for which he eventually sacrifices himself and is resurrected.

Throughout the film, Ashitaka ‘otherness’ is emphasised. His unusual origins and extraordinary strengths distinguish him from other characters. Often referred to as ‘stranger’ or ‘outsider’ (Miyazaki, 1997), it is clear that the other characters do not see him as one of them. Ashitaka comes from the marginalised Emishi tribe that was believed to have been eradicated hundreds of years earlier. Separated from the culture that was advancing towards a technological future, the Emishi people are portrayed as the ‘guardians of ancient wisdoms of the forest’ (Bigelow, 2009). Unlike the other humans in the film, Ashitaka grew up with a strong connection with and respect for the natural world. We see this when Ashitaka saves two men of Irontown, carrying them home through the ‘forbidden forest’ (Miyazaki, 1997). While the men are terrified of the ethereal kodama (tree spirits), Ashitaka trusts the spirits to guide them through the forest saying that they are ‘a sign this forest is healthy’ (Miyazaki, 1997). Ashitaka’s unusual origins give him a different perspective to other characters in the film. He is not worried about wealth or power but has a deep-seated interest in nature and the preservation of life.

Ashitaka is also separated from other characters by his incredible, but still very human, strengths. The nature with which he returns the men to Irontown grants him a mixed reception. While the townspeople are grateful that their men are alive, they do not wholly trust this strange man who managed to travel through the taboo forest with two badly injured men; it is something they would not have dreamed possible. Ashitaka’s strength and fighting abilities seem almost unnatural to the other characters. ‘You fight like a demon’ (Miyazaki, 1997), one character tells Ashitaka. This emphasises both the magnitude and nature of Ashitaka’s powers. His strength, determination and archery skills, while god-like in measure, are human powers in essence. Ashitaka is only human and he does suffer under human hardships. This is important as, in order to be a relatable, and therefore successful, messiah he must have ‘the same limitations and weaknesses as an ‘ordinary’ and finite human being’ (Deacy, 1999).

Despite his humanity, it is still through a screen of suspicion that the other characters respect Ashitaka for his strengths. Mysterious, powerful, and therefore potentially dangerous, Ashitaka must be ‘othered’. It is this outsider status, which is common for messiah figures (Kozlovic, 2004), that allows Ashitaka to move between worlds and act in a messianic role. Messiahs, as semi-holy figures, must represent desirable values whilst being set apart from the rest of us. They are figures that we should aspire to be like. Human, and familiar enough to be relatable while being separate enough to revere.

Ashitaka’s incredible strength is balanced by his incredible love and respect for life. He is driven by a desire for peace and committed to his beliefs in justice. When these two values come into conflict, Ashitaka suffers. He wants to end violence but often must use violence to do so. When we first meet Ashitaka, he is protecting his people from a terrible demon. The creature seethes with writhing, black worms but even so Ashitaka first tries to reason with it. ‘Calm your fury, oh mighty lord’ (Miyazaki, 1997), he pleads. However, when the beast threatens some villagers, Ashitaka is forced to take decisive action, killing the demon with his bow and arrow. Ashitaka knows what is right but he still struggles to enforce it. He wants to protect the innocent and fight for the weak or marginalised but it pains him to take life and he does this only when there is no other option. We see this again when Ashitaka reflects on killing two samurai who were brutally attacking another village. ‘I was wrong to fight in that village’, he says, ‘two men are dead because of me’ (Miyazaki, 1997). Although he knows his actions were justified and that his skills gave him a unique power to help the defenceless villagers, he still feels a ‘reluctance to use those skills to do harm’ (Kraemer, 2016). Ashitaka’s complex moral code separates him from classic messiah figures. He does not rationalise the violence he uses but instead feels the weight of every life he takes. He is cursed not only with the mark on his arm but also by the guilt of the violence he must use.

Ashitaka’s desires are different from all other characters in the film resulting in him not taking a side in the conflict. It is not any particular victory that he wants but an end to violence. When questioned what it is that he desires, he says ‘What I want is for the humans and the forest to live in peace’ (Miyazaki, 1997). The other characters see the forest and the town as completely divided, different and unable to mix. But Ashitaka does see not the division between them. To him, all life is simply sacred. No matter what you must ‘love your neighbour as yourself’ (Mark 12:31). When San and Eboshi become involved in a vicious fight, Ashitaka intervenes and delivers a stirring sermon. His curse manifests itself as black, swirling tendrils as he shouts to the shocked and terrified crowd, ‘This is what hatred looks like! This is what it does when it catches hold of you! (Miyazaki, 1997). Ashitaka fight is not against against humans or gods but against hatred and it is his ‘willingness to meet violence with love’ (Kraemer, 2016) that is his greatest weapon.

Ashitaka’s image as a messiah figure is cemented in the other-worldliness of his resurrection and in his sacrifice. Miyazaki is careful in the way he portrays Ashitaka in these scenes. Although they are rich with godly powers, Ashitaka’s humanity is emphasised. As a messiah figure, Ashitaka is human touched by divinity. He is not a divine being himself but he is influenced by the gods and demons that are present in his life. This is epitomised in his resurrection. After Ashitaka is shot, San takes his lifeless body to a sacred island in the middle of the forest. She places a small plant above his head, a life to take in return for his. After she leaves, we see the forest spirit approach and revive Ashitaka in a strange, dream-like sequence. During the day, the god, who duty is to ‘give life and take life away’ (Miyazaki, 1997,) takes the form of a deer like creature with many antlers and humanoid face. We see flowers and plants bud, bloom, wilt and die under the creature’s feet as it walks. The forest spirit looks upon Ashitaka and the plant as the leaves of the plant wither and drop. In the morning, Ashitaka’s bullet wound is healed but the cursed mark remains. Although Ashitaka undergoes what is definitely a divine resurrection, it is not any divinity of his own that saves him but his pure heart. It is the forest spirit who, deeming Ashitaka worthy of resurrecting, saves him thus ensuring Ashitaka remains fully human.

In the stunning climax to the film, Ashitaka sacrifices himself to atone for humanity’s wrongdoings. Eboshi and the other humans have shot off and taken the forest spirit’s head. The ghostly shell of its body spews out deadly black liquid and long arms which search for its head. Ashitaka catches the carriers of the head and demand they give it to him to return before everything is destroyed. ‘Human hands must return it!’ (Miyazaki, 1997) He shouts. Humanity as a whole has sinned, they have turned their back on nature and committed the ultimate atrocity; killing the ‘very heart of the forest’ (Miyazaki, 1997). Messiah figures feel a duty to ‘take on the sinfulness of those around them’ (Kozlovic, 2004). Ashitaka must, therefore, act as a representative of humanity and sacrifice himself for their transgressions.

As he and San hold up the head for the god, they become covered with cursed marks. They are sure of their deaths but stand strong and true. With their sacrifice, they save not only themselves but all living things as a wash of new life spreads over the ruined land. Ashitaka not only possesses many of the characteristics of a messiah figure, his life and death also mirrors that of Christ in many ways. Just as Christ’s death gave humanity ‘forgiveness of sins’ (Ephesians 1:7), Ashitaka’s sacrifice saved the world. His resurrection and sacrifice mark him as a clear messiah figure.

Messiah figures in film are used as symbols to exemplify the characteristics and values that filmmakers want to promote (Deacy, 1999). In Princess Mononoke, Miyazaki teaches us a respect for life, as he said in a 2004 interview ‘We should treasure everything because there is a kind of life to everything’. He uses Ashitaka to convey a message of peace and environmentalism. Although Princess Mononoke is not explicitly religious, it does draw from Shinto mythology and beliefs and reflects many of the tenets of Western religion. Shinto faith ‘stresses relation and connectedness’ (Bigelow, 2009). This is an important theme that develops through the film as the characters realise relationships they were not previously aware of. In one of the last scenes, one of the townspeople comments ‘I didn’t know the forest spirit made the flowers grow’ (Miyazaki, 1997). As Christ literally gave a blind man sight (John 9:11), Ashitaka metaphorically opens the peoples’ eyes to the interdependent relationship between the town and the humans (Kraemer 2016). Although Miyazaki’s messiah may be more implicit than those typically found in Western culture, the ideals he teaches of love, peace and respect are essentially the same.

In conclusion, Ashitaka acts as a messiah figure to spread a message of peace. Miyazaki sets Ashitaka apart from other characters with Shis strange customs and extraordinary powers to make him able to move between warring sides. He is not the fully-assured messiah we see all too often in the West, but a saviour racked with guilt and uncertainty about how should carry out his mission without just creating more violence. Like Christ, He is fully committed to his beliefs and ready to sacrifice himself for them. In Princess Mononoke, Ashitaka not only learns to ‘see with eyes unclouded by hate’ (Miyazaki, 1997) but also teaches us to do the same.

Continuing our theme of modern messiahs today, we turn to that fabulous classic movie, The Matrix, which intrigues not only moviegoers, but also theologians and scholars of religion, who have long recognized some fascinating engagement in the film with religious themes and tropes. One of our Bible and Popular Culture students, Minolie Rajapakse, spotted some connections between The Matrix and the American Monomyth, and wrote a marvellous essay about the film’s protagonist Neo as a modern messiah/supersaviour figure. Minolie hails originally from Sri Lanka, but has lived in New Zealand (Auckland) most of her life. She is doing a BA/BSc conjoint degree majoring in sociology and psychology. She hopes to pursue a career in psychology, particularly clinical psychology. Minolie took our Bible and Pop Culture course to discover some of the many ways the Bible influences pop culture and to learn more about the Bible’s stories and theologies.

So, whether you are a Matrix afficionado or not, we hope you enjoy Minolie’s fab essay.

Neo the great Messiah of The Matrix

Minolie Rajapakse

Hollywood appears to have an obsession with ‘The American Monomyth’ culture, especially when it comes to religion. The American Monomyth allows for the portrayal of a hero in desperate times of need. These ideas may possibly stem from ideologies surrounding the bible, in particular with Jesus. This is arguably seen in the film, The Matrix (1999). The main protagonist Neo is an ordinary man who gets plunged into a computational world were machines rule and the previous known reality is rather a stimulation called the matrix. Neo can be viewed as a popular messiah figure because of his status of being “The One” in relation to his similarity to Jesus Christ. This is portrayed through his divine extraordinary powers, his representation as a saviour to his people embodying the American Monomyth superhero figure and lastly his purification through his death and resurrection.

The American Monomyth, as discussed by Jewett and Lawrence (2002), is a popular theme in thousands of movies; it frequently portrays, “a selfless superhero [who] emerges to renounce temptation and carry out the redemptive task”. The central protagonist has the sole ability to save the rest of humanity from evil. The heroic character often learns a greater knowledge and understanding about him/herself, which allows them to access their full power and abilities, allowing them to save their civilisation. With this storyline being represented numerously in films, it is often common to see the main protagonist being associated with biblical connotations such as being a divine saviour or messiah figure such like Jesus.

The Old Testament defines the messiah as “the anointed one” representing a holy or divine leader, elected and given authority for a specific task or reason (Bible Study Tools). Messiah figures come when times are desperate and a hero is needed. Arguably Neo can be seen as an example of this in The Matrix films as he is represented as a sacred and powerful man who is the only person capable of destroying the Matrix, giving him the status of being “The One”.

Neo

Parallelism between Jewett and Lawrence’s (2002) characteristics of the American Monomythic hero having “extraordinary powers” is represented through Neo’s character. In the beginning of the film Neo is presented as a common human, going by the name Thomas Anderson who is plunged into a world of dystopia. He is taken outside of the Matrix reality aided by his mentor Morpheus, where he is rebirthed into “the real world” and is renamed Neo. Significantly Neo is an anagram for one, a clever play on words by the directors, the Wachowski brothers, to reinforce Neo’s almighty status. Morpheus initially tells Neo that he believes Neo is “The One”- the one who can destroy the matrix simulation and save humanity. Neo’s extraordinary powers are clear in an early scene where he and Morpheus have a fighting training session. It is obvious to the audience and the other characters in the film that Neo has strengths like no other; Neo’s ability to quickly and easily learn makes him a competent opponent to the advanced Morpheus, even allowing him to overpower Morpheus. One character even exclaims, “Jesus Christ he’s fast…way above normal”. These extraordinary powers and abilities elevate Neo to a messianic status as he continuously proves himself worthy thus embodying his title of being “The One”.

Neo and Morpheus

Furthermore the final fight between Neo and Agent Smith (the film’s main antagonist) is a pivotal moment that depicts Neo as a messiah figure through his gifted extraordinary powers. This particular fight scene was considered legendary to cinematic viewers. This scene portrays Neo accepting his destiny and finally believing that he is “The One”. At that moment, his abilities are enhanced as he exhibits superhuman strength and power, which become unmatched compared to Agent Smith, and so Neo defeats him. Sutton and Winn (2001) note how commonly there is a representation of violence in the final confrontation between supersaviour and antagonist: “violence is an essential component of the monomyth.” This may act to reinforce ideas of power and strength which are typically associated with superheros and reinforces the final epic battle. Neo’s use of violence symbolises his extraordinary powers used for good, again epitomising him into a superhero/messiah figure as it reinforces his abilities and individuality compared to everyone else. I believe this makes him powerful and heroic in the eyes of others around him, reinforcing his special status as “The One”.

Neo’s extraordinary powers

Neo’s representation in The Matrix can also be viewed as an allegory to Jesus Christ. For example, Paul Fontana (2003) writes that, “In ancient Israelite tradition there was an expectation that a great military leader would arise…this person was referred to as the messiah”. Furthermore he writes, “When Jesus arrived in Jerusalem the people hailed him as a king”. Arguably these parallels between Neo and Jesus reinforce Neo being a popular messiah figure, which is enhanced by Neo being “The One,” creating symmetry between him and Jesus. Moreover both Neo and Jesus displayed divine powers that made them seem of a higher celestial status compared to everyone around them. Neo’s extraordinary powers can be compared to that of Jesus’ miracles. In Matthew 9:1-8 Jesus performs the miracle of giving a paralytic the ability to walk again and in John 2:1-11:1 Jesus turns water into wine, again exhibiting divine extraordinary powers, which set him apart as an almighty individual, and a powerful messiah. These extraordinary powers and abilities resonate with the figure of a superhero, which idealises qualities such as mightiness, strength and confidence. These qualities are still deemed desirable in popular culture, which may be why Neo is arguably hailed as a popular messiah figure.

Special powers and miracles

Neo’s portrayal as a messianic figure can also be exhibited through his representation as a self-sacrificing saviour – another criteria of the American Monomyth according to Jewett and Lawrence. In one scene, Neo meets with the Oracle, a wise woman whom the characters confide in to learn more about their future. The Oracle tells Neo that he is not “The One” and that a time will come when he will have to choose between saving his own life or the life of Morpheus. Later on in the film, Morpheus is captured by Agent Smith and is held hostage. Neo makes the brave decision to give his own life to save Morpheus, thus exhibiting his first sign of self-sacrifice and leadership. This saviour presentation is a common portrayal using the American Monomythic theme of a noble saviour stepping up and fulfilling his/her duty by making a sacrifice to save others. This representation of Neo also acts to categorise him as a selfless hero, a quality Jewett and Lawrence identify as being part of the American Monomyth.

The Matrix

Arguably Neo’s selflessness resonates with the qualities of a messiah because it reinforces his devotion to help others, in this particular case Morpheus. Neo’s self-sacrifice to save Morpheus (as he thinks he has to die for Morpheus to live, as the Oracle prophesised) creates symmetry with the American Monomyth theme of sacrifice. Jewett and Lawrence discuss this in terms of redemption: “the combining elements of the selfless servant who impassively gives his life for others”. Thus again, Neo can be viewed as a popular messiah figure because of this quality; his selflessness defines him as a saviour.

Morpheus

Neo’s sacrificial role in the film is enhanced through his death and resurrection, which ultimately represents a form of purification and enlightenment for his character. In the film, after rescuing Morpheus, Neo is still trapped in the matrix, left alone to fight Agent Smith. However as Neo is just about to escape, he is shot multiple times and dies. Back in the real world, Trinity declares her love for Neo and kisses his body, representing the kiss of life. Neo then takes a breath and wakes up, symbolising his acceptance of his status as “The One”. He is then able to see the Matrix and its manipulations and has the ability to control it, becoming all-powerful. He becomes purified through his strength and power and destroys Agent Smith. Rising from the dead and fulfilling his destiny and fate to help others ultimately reinforces Neo’s messianic status. His death and resurrection can be compared to that of Jesus’, as both died trying to save others – Neo for Morpheus and Jesus for the sins of humanity. Furthermore a similarity is seen between Neo and Jesus in terms of how both of them first encounter women when they are resurrected from the dead (Milford 2010). Neo first sees Trinity watching over him and Jesus meets Mary Magdalene according to the Gospel’s of Mark 16:9 and John 20:14. These similarities aim to reinforce the resemblance of Neo to Jesus, thus outlining Neo’s own representation as a messiah who dies but is then resurrected. After their resurrections, these two messianic figures appear to become purified and enlightened, through recognition of their status as “The One” and also through the love and loyalty of their followers.

Trinity kisses Neo back to life

One reason why Neo became such a popular messiah figure is because, by embodying the American Monomythic hero, he becomes a role model for the way some viewers would want to be themselves, someone they admire. Neo is selfless and brave in a frightening world, where computers and machines basically control the known reality. This would have been a very topical subject back in 1999 when the film premiered, as technology was beginning to boom and was changing society, which raised many anxieties within the general population. As Lang and Trimble (1988) suggest, “The hero came to represent the needs of the masses”. Blizek (2011) also notes that people turn to religion in times where there is worry or hardship, thus “religion reassures us in times of trouble”. Thus perhaps Neo came to represent a powerful saviour and hero amidst the culturally growing uncertainty and anxiety surrounding the future of technology (Szollosy 2017). Neo offered audiences a human saviour who could protect them from the dangers of technology. Thus he was morphed into a cultural messiah figure becoming a character people could relate to and identity with.

It is clear to see how Neo from The Matrix embodies the messiah figure as he is depicted as having similar characteristics as both the American Monomyth ‘supersaviour’ figure and Jesus. Neo’s extraordinary powers and abilities portray him as an almighty and powerful being, elevating him to a divine status (‘the One’) compared to others around him. His illustration of being a sacrificial saviour for his civilisation reinforces his selflessness and devotion to others, and his death and resurrection act to purify and enlighten his divine being. These portrayals of Neo, aim to epitomise him as a powerful messiah in a dark dystopian future, perhaps to reinforce that there will always be a hero, a saviour, a messiah to help and guide others and save the day even in the most terrifying moments or times.

Fontana, P. (2003). Finding God in The Matrix. In G. Yeffeth (Eds.), Taking the red pill: Science, Philosophy, and Religion in The Matrix (pp. 159-184). United States of America: Independent Publishers Group

Lang, J. S., & Trimble, P. (1988). Whatever happened to the Man of Tomorrow? An examination of the American monomyth and the comic book superhero. The Journal of Popular Culture, 22(3), 157-173. doi: 10.1111/j.0022-3840.1988.2203_157.x

Sutton, D. L., & Winn, J. E. (2001). “Do We Get to Win This Time?”: POW/MIA Rescue Films and the American Monomyth. The Journal of American Culture, 24(1‐2), 25-30. doi: 10.1111/j.1537-4726.2001.2401_25.x

From yesterday’s focus on the Bible and politics, we move to a most fabulous essay that considers religious and biblical themes in cult musical, The Rocky Horror Picture Show (1975). The piece is written by another student from our Bible and Popular Culture course, Kate Bodger, who hails from New Zealand and is studying a Bachelor of Arts majoring in English and Classics. Kate doesn’t know what the future holds for her, but she hopes that it involves art, writing and traveling. She has always found religion fascinating even before she started going to church, and loves exploring its relationship to our everyday lives and culture. So she decided to take a few TheoRel papers as part of her degree, which she confirms was “an altogether good choice” as it meant she could put her excessive viewing of the Rocky Horror Picture Show to some use. Enjoy!

Images taken from TRHPS, dir. Jim Sharman, 20th Century Fox (1975)

Religion in Fishnet Tights

The Rocky Horror Picture Show and Religion

Kate Bodger

Ordinarily it would be easy to dismiss The Rocky Horror Picture Show (TRHPS) as having little in common with Christianity. But TRHPS dismisses the ordinary, and this 70s hit actually has numerous religious ties. The way fans have built such a following around the film makes it seem like its own seductive faith. Within this religion stands Dr. Frank n Furter, a contemporary messiah, saving those who feel like outsiders. In contrast to this a look inside the text exposes a different Frank n Furter who resembles more of a subverted bacchic messiah, bringing about the fall of humanity. It is clear that this midnight horror is not just dripping with blood and sex, but also religion.

TRHPS has spawned a particular following that can be likened to that of a religion. Popular culture can be seen as a religion when it displays parallels in form and function (Forbes 2005, p.15). TRHPS clearly mimics the form of a religion with the various traditions that have been created around the film. Audiences adorn the appropriate attire, fishnet tights and high heels, and head to their chosen place of worship, the cinema, to engage in various rituals, song, and dance. Fans of TRHPS do not just watch the film, they interact with it. Call and response techniques, just like in a Sunday mass, are used by the audience as they speak to the characters on screen. During the time warp audiences do the pelvic thrust with the Transylvanians, worshipping through song and dance.

Props are also used with the audience throwing rice at the wedding scene, these props symbols of the Rocky-Horror-faith. TRHPS has birthed its own set of rites and routines, much like a religion. ‘Virgin Sacrifices’ are even a tradition with new comers or ‘virgins’ being initiated into the Rocky Horror family through challenges, or sometimes a pledge. This tradition references a sacrifice, something associated with appeasing or thanking a deity. These ‘virgin sacrifices’, also tie in with modern churches as they can be viewed as contemporary altar calls, or baptisms, with the ‘virgins’ saying goodbye to their old selves with this proclamation of faith. The crazy spectacle of TRHPS has led to it being described as a religious experience, and one writer called themselves “a true believer” (Berman 2015) after their first Rocky Horror experience. Aside from form TRHPS also mimics religion in terms of function. The enticing excitement of the cult classic has created its own community with a sense of security for outsiders and the marginalized. And at the center of this safe community is TRHPS’s very own seductive and sexy savior.

Frank n Furter

TRHPS attracts many outsiders, there is something welcoming about being told to be confident, and let go of any worries. The community that surrounds this cult classic feel they have been ‘saved’, in the sense they have been given a place where they can be themselves and gain a sense of freedom. The main figure revered in this community is the sweet transvestite himself; Frank n Furter. Frank n Furter has become a cultural icon, telling people to love themselves with an I-am-going-to-do-me-while-being-proud-and-loud attitude. “Don’t judge a book by its cover” (O’Brien and Sharman 1995) is one of Frank n Furter’s entry lines onto screen. The absurdity of the whole film and the fantastical escape the audience is taken on is mostly directed by Frank n Furter himself, being the king, or perhaps God, of his respective castle. Fans herald him as their savior from normalcy and the judgments of life. This liberation and acceptance also includes social justice, and a commitment to justice is one characteristic of a modern messiah figure (Reinhartz 2011, p.431).

Laverne Cox in the new TRHPS

TRHPS was released in 1975, and pushed the boundaries of its time with its sexual freedom and gender fluid identities. The cult classic became especially popular within the LBGTQA+ community. Laverne Cox who played the contemporary messiah in the new remake (2016) remarks, “After I saw Rocky Horror for the first time, it became a turning point in my life. It’s part of what gave me the courage to truly transition” (Baysinger 2016). And a gay fan has written about the experiences of “having two very special men come into [their] life” (Townley 2011), one being Jesus, and the other Frank n Furter, and in the course of the article Frank n Furter does more of the blessing and saving. Frank n Furter has not revolutionized queer rights, but he has become an icon for many who feel they are different, with TRHPS allowing a space for people to feel free from societal norms. The way Frank n Furter is heralded as such a symbol of sexual freedom and acceptance makes him the modern messiah of this contemporary religion. This interestingly is juxtaposed in contrast with the Frank n Furter’s character inside the film, who is more related to hedonism and havoc.

When we look at the Frank n Furter inside the film we are presented with a man with a very hedonistic lifestyle, who likes to manipulate and control others, a man who is both a murderer, and a cannibal. This Frank n Furter juxtaposes with the heralded figure mentioned earlier, making him a subverted messiah. Frank n Furter plays the role of a bacchic devil, “a postmodern, gay version of the god Dionysus, followed by his intoxicated Maenads” (Aviram 1992). In fact, the story of his hedonism influencing Brad and Janet, mimics the biblical story of the fall of humanity, where the serpent tricks Eve and then Adam into eating from the tree of good and evil (Genesis 3).

Brad and Janet, with Magenta and Riff Raff

The plot of TRHPS shadows this storyline, we have Brad and Janet, a perfect, clean cut couple, representing Adam and Eve, and Frank n Furter as the serpent, who offers them each a taste of the forbidden fruit, or sex. Janet is even ‘corrupted’ first, paralleling the biblical story with Eve being the first to eat the fruit. Their indulgence becomes a turning point as eventually both Janet and Brad are shown to be completely overwhelmed by desire in the floor show. The overarching story of TRHPS replicates the original sin, or the fall of humanity. And inside it Frank n Furter is the slithering snake that whispers and suggests; “give yourself over to absolute pleasure” (O’Brien and Sharman 1995).

Frank and Rocky

Frank n Furter as a subverted savior is also highlighted through some of the film’s religious references. Rocky is brought to life by Frank n Furter. Not only is Frank n Furter elevated to god-like status by creating life, but he is paralleled with God as he sings “in just seven days, I can make you a man” (O’Brien and Sharman 1995). When biblically it took God seven days to create the universe (Genesis 1-2). However Frank n Furter does not see Rocky as his child, or his creation, but rather he made Rocky to satisfy sexual desires, as Frank n Furter sings in Sweet Transvestite, “he’s good for relieving my tension.” This subverted and perverse presentation of creation is again implied with a picture of Michel Angelo’s The Creation of Adam displayed on the floor of the pool, where Frank n Furter leads the way to hedonistic indulgence.

Frank the great creator of life

The birthday dinner scene in TRHPS can also be seen as an inverted biblical reference. In the Bible Jesus said “Those who eat my flesh and drink my blood have eternal life” (John 6:54). This dinner scene can be viewed as a twisted version of Jesus’ words and actions where the bread symbolized his body and the wine his blood (Dika 2003, p.113). Here Frank n Furter actually serves Eddie’s flesh and blood, and this particular scene is introduced by the criminologist with a picture of Leonardo da Vinci’s The Last Supper in a book open behind him. The character of Frank n Furter presents itself as a seductive, serpent, and this begs the question how that is compatible with his alter-ego of the liberating messiah-like figure. It seems that TRHPS satirizes fears of the LGBTQA+ community, using the absurdity of the film to mock those who thought that anyone queer was a sex-mad alien sent to corrupt humanity. Meaning that Frank n Furter’s corruption as a character, makes him more of a savior-like figure.

TRHPS has become its own religion. A contemporary faith that is staying strong for a new generation of outsiders. The new Sunday best comes with fishnet stockings and bright red lips, and amazing grace has been replaced with Sweet Transvestite for worship. Frank n Furter sits on his throne at the head of this religion, as both a figure for the marginalized, and a character who mocks 70s homophobia through his devilish ways. All in all TRHPS presents itself as a religion of terrible thrills…

Today’s wonderful Bible and Pop Culture essay is by Lachlan Balfour, who takes us back for another look at my favourite biblical character, Delilah. Lachlan has just completed his second year of a law and arts degree, where he is majoring in politics. Lachlan hasn’t decided yet what he’ll do once he completes his degree (he has a while to decide!) but at this point, he is thinking about a career working in politics. Lachlan tells me that he enjoyed our Bible and Pop Culture course, as it allowed him to gain a knowledge of the bible and to understand just how prevalent it is in contemporary society. So sit back, and relish some more Delilah fabulousness.

The portrayal of Delilah in cultural texts since the first mention of her in Judges 16 has tended to show her as a vindictive femme fatale, something that has little basis in the bible. Judges 16 provides limited background on Delilah, her motivation for betraying Samson or the nature of their relationship. Despite this, creators of cultural works, including Rembrandt in his 1636 work The Blinding of Samson, Rubens’ Samson and Delilah and Cecil B. DeMille’s 1949 film epic of the same name, attempt to fill these gaps to create Delilah the femme fatale. Delilah’s motivation for betraying Samson, the nature of their relationship, and whether Delilah regretted her betrayal are the biblical gaps discussed. This essay will focus on how the world behind the text, including the creator’s experiences and the views of those around them, and the world in the text – focusing on the piece itself, are used to fill these gaps to create the image of Delilah we have today.

Poster for Samson and Delilah (Paramount 1949)

In Samson and Delilah, DeMille gives Delilah a number of motivations for cutting Samson’s hair, all of which aid in portraying her as a vindictive femme fatale. Judges 16 only refers to the possible motivation of Delilah receiving “eleven hundred pieces of silver” from each of the Philistine elders in return for discovering the source of Samson’s strength (JDG. 16.5). While DeMille does incorporate this detail into his telling of the story, he does not make it the sole reason for Delilah’s betrayal. DeMille instead makes her primary motivation that of revenge for Samson’s rejection of her over her sister and an all-consuming jealousy that means if she can’t have Samson, no one can – both very femme fatale like qualities. The world in the text of the film shows Samson rejecting the offer of marriage to Delilah after her sister betrays him by marrying someone else, stating he would “not want a thistle from a rose” (Zwick 2014, 219). After becoming courtesan to King of the philistines, she offers her services in trapping Samson as revenge for his rejection. Once Delilah has cut off his hair she offers another motive for her betrayal – jealousy. Referring to the virtuous Mirjam who loves Samson and convinces him to leave Delilah to save his parents, Delilah remarks: “I could have loved you with a fire to make all others seem like ice…but one call from the milk-faced Danite and you run whining at her heels.” This is very much portraying Delilah as the femme fatale, a seductress who causes the downfall of a helpless man her for her own gratification. Her near hatred for Samson after his rejection also adds to this image, which is vastly different to the monetary reward which seems to motivate Delilah in the bible.

Hedy Lamarr and Victor Mature, Samson and Delilah (Paramount 1949)

The society surrounding DeMille influenced him in making his Delilah a “scheming little dame,” taking from popular perceptions of Delilah in the 1940s and views on women more generally (Kozlovic 2010, 8). Delilah’s portrayal as a femme fatale fits very much within view of Delilah in the 1940s, that she was a temptress and therefore her whole character was bad. This is in line with the conservative view that promiscuous women were dangerous and immoral that existed during the period – though promiscuous men were not subjected to the same harsh judgement. Samson is portrayed as an Israelite hero for murdering Philistines in revenge for his broken engagement to Delilah’s sister, but Delilah is seen as a vindictive temptress for doing what was in the best interests of her people. By portraying Delilah as, in DeMille’s words, “quite the bitch” but Samson as above reproach is a reflection of the world behind the text of 1940s society in America where men were seen as the superior sex (ibid., 12). Further, DeMille is enforcing the stereotype of Delilah as a dangerous woman, determined to bring down Samson for initially rejecting her love. More recent interpretations consider that perhaps Delilah was only betraying Samson for her own survival, knowing that it was dangerous to disobey the Philistine elders (ibid., 10). No consideration is given to her situation, a single woman in a world very much dominated by men, and that maybe her motivations lay only in survival (Zwick 2014, 219).

Delilah makes the fatal cut (Paramount 1949)

Rembrandt portrays Delilah as unremorseful for her betrayal of Samson, instead relishing in his pain to add to her image as an evil, vindictive woman. Judges 16 offers no insight into how Delilah felt about her actions, so he has filled this gap in a way that enforces the stereotype of her as an evil femme fatale. The world in the text of The Blinding of Samson shows Delilah as being both repulsed by the gouging of Samson’s eyes but also has a look of fascination and almost satisfaction as she looks on at the struggling Samson (Georgievska-Shine 2007, 249). Further, she is seen to be mocking Samson by clutching his hair in her hand and “flaunting it” in front of him (ibid). He is enforcing the stereotype of Delilah as a femme fatale who revels in the destruction she has caused by painting her as a “projection of the feeling of attraction mingled with repulsion elicited by woman and the danger she denotes” (ibid.). Rembrandt has completely imagined her response cutting Samson’s hair as there is no mention of her after the gouging in Judges 16, and instead of giving her qualities of shame and remorse he has used it to give her the qualities of a femme fatale.

Rembrandt, The Blinding of Samson (1636)

Looking behind the text, Rembrandt’s own fear of losing his vision, something that for a painter would be seen as ‘the ultimate deprivation’, combined with societal views impacts his portrayal of Delilah (ibid.). It is thought that the models for Samson and Delilah is the artist himself and his wife Saskia, with Rembrandt having only painted Samson during their marriage (ibid., 252). His own feelings about relationships between man and woman and the dangers that they contained were expressed through The Blinding of Samson. Rembrandt saw from his marriage that women could be unremorseful femme fatales, and used his deepest fear of going blind as a way to show the betrayal which can occur in relationships (ibid.). Further influencing his depiction of Delilah were those around him. There was a strong theme in Dutch art and literature at the time warning of the dangers of relations between man and woman (ibid.). This would have caused him to take a more moralistic approach to Delilah, portraying her as evil personified for betraying Samson and therefore unremorseful for her actions.

Rubens, Samson and Delilah (1609-10)

Rubens’ Samson and Delilah portrays the relationship between the pair as sex worker and customer to enforce the image of Delilah as a femme fatale. Judges 16 does not give a clear picture of the relationship between Samson and Delilah. Although it assumed she is a concubine, Samson acts differently towards her than the woman he lay with earlier in the text (Jdg. 16.1-3), saying that he is in love with her rather than there just being a sexual attraction (Sasson 1998, 334). In Rubens’ painting, we see from the world in the text that he includes many of the traits of a brothel with an old woman as a ‘procuress’ and the inclusion of towels and jars typical of brothel scenes (Georgievska-Shine 2007, 461). Further hints at this being a brothel scene are that Delilah’s breasts are exposed and she is waring in a red dress, the huge Samson resting on her lap hinting that they have just finished making love (Exum 1996, 192). This sexualisation of Delilah combined with the perception of sex workers as people with ‘loose morals’ contributes to her portrayal as a seductress and dangerous woman – despite this not being the case in Judges 16. That Rubens chooses to portray her as a concubine is very much a reflection of his world and the beliefs at the time. Other artists during the 17th century also adhered to Josephus’ description of Delilah as a “harlot among the philistines” by painting her with an expression of indifference toward Samson, never having loved him (Georgievska-Shine 2007, 462). It is only natural that Rubens would follow this theme in his portrayal, interpreting Judges 16 in such a way that Delilah is made into an immoral seductress.

The portrayal of Delilah in cultural texts differs greatly from her biblical portrayal in Judges 16. Looking at the texts and their creators’ influences for Delilah’s portrayal show a vindictive femme fatale where only a vague description of Delilah exists in the bible. Cecil B. DeMille’s Samson and Delilah fills the biblical gap of the motivation for Delilah’s betrayal as revenge and jealousy, attributes that feed into the image of her as a femme fatale. DeMille’s world helped to shape this portrayal by its views around the interpretation of Delilah and women more generally. Rembrandt’s The Blinding of Samson also exhibits Delilah as an unremorseful, dangerous woman, with the moralistic Dutch contemporaries and his own personal views on relationships shaping this portrayal. Finally, Rubens’ Samson and Delilah fills the final gap in Judges 16, portraying the relationship between Samson and Delilah as a courtesan and customer. The prevailing view at the time of Delilah as a sex worker influencing his work and helping to add to Delilah’s image as an immoral femme fatale.

Bibliography

All biblical text references are from the New Revised Standard Version.

Today’s student essay comes from Flo Cardon, another student who took our Bible and Pop Culture class earlier this year. Flo is currently in the middle of completing her Bachelor of Arts degree, with a major in Classics and a minor in Ancient History. She loves art and history and in her spare time, enjoys painting. Unsurprisingly, her primarily subject matter in her art relates to religion and mythology. She also loves watching films, particularly musicals (which can probably be deducted from her essay topic!).

Flo chose a controversial biblical character to focus on in her essay – Judas – considering his (equally controversial) afterlife in the movie Jesus Christ Superstar. It’s a great essay, so read on, and enjoy.

Heaven on Their Minds: Judas in the Bible and Popular Culture

By

Flo Cardon

The name ‘Judas’ has become synonymous with ideas of betrayal, disloyalty and treachery. It is commonly known that in the Bible, Jesus Christ was betrayed by the only ex-disciple, Judas Iscariot, in exchange for money. The Bible presents Judas as a two dimensional person, simplified down to only that one moment in his life where he gave Jesus over to the Romans and sealed his fate as ‘Judas, the one that would betray him’ forever. Norman Jewison’s musical film Jesus Christ Superstar (1973) presents Judas as a complex and tragic character that plays an important part in the story of Jesus Christs’ life. By comparing Jewison’s Judas with his biblical counterpart, many investigations can be made into the history of Judas as a character and his portrayal as the one who brought down Jesus Christ.

Carl Anderson as Judas in Norman Jewison’s Jesus Christ Superstar

In comparison to the Bible, Jewison’s Judas is presented as the tragic figure and the one who the audience should sympathise with. He is shown as only wanting the best for Jesus and the Jews, and uses the entire first musical number as a soliloquy as to how he thinks Jesus is going to doom all his followers and friends as well as himself. Here Judas is not presented as a villain but Jesus’ worried friend. His motivation is to get Jesus to listen to him so that they can prevent Jesus’ movement from getting too large that it will get attention from Roman authorities. This is not a man with evil intent, but one that cares for his friends and the danger he sees they are bringing upon themselves. Biblical Judas is a stark contrast to this; Judas is referred to as ‘Judas, the one that would betray [Jesus]’ more often than not. In the Gospel of John, Judas criticises Jesus’ use of expensive perfume on himself and voices that he thinks the money used on this perfume could have gone to the poor, and is subsequently labelled as a thief (John 12.5-6). This shows that Biblical Judas is motivated to betray Jesus through money, and not friendship like in the film. Judas’ realisation of the inevitability of Jesus’ fate at the beginning of the film contrasted with his obliviousness of the fact that he would be the one that brought Jesus’ downfall brings about an extremely tragic aspect to Judas’ character that isn’t found in the Bible. Before Judas’ death, he sings about how he did not know he was handing Jesus over to die, which is another tragic contrast to how he only intended to betray Jesus so that he would protect the fate of all those that followed his growing movement, including Jesus himself. This emphasises the tragic nature of Judas’ part in this story, as he was unknowingly playing into Jesus’ inevitable arrest and crucifixion much more than he was let on.

However, in the Bible during the last supper, it is written in the Gospel of John that ‘the devil had already prompted Judas to betray Jesus’ (John 13.2), meaning that Biblical Judas only needed to be prompted in order to actually betray Jesus in exchange for money. Both versions of Judas hang themselves in response to Jesus’ sentence to be crucified, but in the film we feel much sorrier for Judas here than the Judas in the Bible. In the Bible, Judas’ death is short and sweet, with no sympathy or remorse shown towards him, just that ‘he went away and hanged himself’ (Matt. 27.5). This seems to imply that he did deserve this tragic ending, as he was shown as the villain who handed Jesus over to the Romans and only that, nothing more. However, just after Jewison’s Judas dies, we hear ‘So long Judas, poor old Judas…’ sung repeatedly as the outro of his death song, reinforcing the idea that Judas was the victim of this story and that he did not deserve this outcome. No one listened to his accurate predictions of what would happen to Jesus and his movement, and he died as a result.[1] Judas in Norman Jewison’s musical film compared to the Bible provides us with insight into the complexity of his character and differing nature of interpretations of it. Judas is clearly the villain in the Bible because of his betrayal of Jesus, but Jesus Christ Superstar (1973) presents us with a Judas with a much more composite, and therefore human, nature.

The Judas kiss

An important aspect of the change in Judas between the Bible and Norman Jewison’s Jesus Christ Superstar (1973) is Judas’ race. It is known that Judas was a Palestinian Jew born in Jericho and one of the most well-educated among the Apostles. However, in the film, Judas is played by Carl Anderson, a black man, which caused a variety of controversy when the film was released. Among the controversy was the accusation that making the ‘villain’ of the narrative black was anti-Semitic. It was argued that by making Judas the only black person gave the character evil connotations, as the ‘true villains’ of the story, the Jewish priests, are also primarily clad in black (Hebron 2016, 157). When the film was initially released, Rabbi Marc Tenenbaum described it as ‘a witch’s brew of anti-black and anti-Semitic venom’ (Bennette 2016). This is in reference to how Judas has been depicted as the prototype of an evil Jewish figure throughout history, with offensive and stereotypical anti-Semitic features like a hooked nose, large eyes and black hair (Meyer 2009, 2). This dehumanized Judas as a biblical figure, cutting him down to being the villain who sold off Jesus Christ to be executed.

The decision to make Judas black, as Marc Tenenbaum mentioned, also stirred up discussion of the portrayal as anti-black. This is the reversal of the anti-Semitic idea, as people thought Jewison’s Judas to be anti-black through the fact that the only black character is Judas, the primary image of betrayal and evil, according to the Bible. Carl Anderson being cast to play Judas is also argued to be ‘a comment on the history of African Americans’ (Grace 2009, 98). This can primarily be seen in Judas’ death scene, in which his suicide is clearly reminiscent of the lynching, especially the large amounts of black Americans that were lynched in the first half of the twentieth century as a result of extreme racial oppression and tension in the United States. This blurred the line between the actor and his role, as Judas knew of the violence and oppression that was being carried out by the Romans like no one else did (Hebron 2016, 159), which is a parallel to the racial suppression of black people that was still being carried out when the film was released, and still continues to this day, with the numerous racist responses to the Black Lives Matter movement. Judas understood violence and oppression like no one else did, yet no one listened to him. This afterlife of Judas is vastly different to that of the original biblical Judas, which can be seen in these varying responses to the choice to make Judas a black man in the musical film.

An interesting yet unique aspect of Jewison’s film is that it is told primarily through Judas’ point of view. It is obvious that Jesus is the hero in the Bible but that is because it is written by his devout followers, whereas it can be argued that Jesus Christ Superstar (1973) was created as a reaction to the lack of investigation into Judas’ side of the story, where Judas himself is the protagonist. This is because of Judas’ character development in the narrative; Judas started off as a follower of Jesus, he believed and supported him, subsequently betrayed him, and then felt such an overwhelming guilt at what he had done that he committed suicide. This is true for both the 1973 film and the gospels. But whereas in the Bible Judas’ feelings and thoughts are ambiguous, the film allows us a look into Judas as the main character and as someone who changes and learns (Miller 2011). The fact that the film is from Judas’ point of view means that the audience is being shown the story of Jesus through the eyes of someone who is critiquing him. Judas is allowed to critique Jesus here, as the audience goes into the narrative knowing the famous story of Judas’ betrayal, and knows that he is seen by many as the ‘villain’ of the musical. Judas’ critique of Jesus shows us mainly that he sees Jesus as not the son of God but a human man who put himself in danger by putting the focus on himself rather than the philosophies he preaches.

In the Bible, Judas is only mentioned in relation to Jesus’ arrest and crucifixion, which does not allow as much character development as the film. This contrast fills in a lot of gaps in the Bible, like what Judas’ thoughts, motives and opinions were when it came to Jesus and the last week of his life. He shows us a Jesus that is human enough to get angry, flip tables at the temple, get overwhelmed at his popularity and even doubt his own faith in his cause. Compared to the cool, calm and collected Jesus shown in the Gospels, this musical Jesus is a lot more unpredictable and human, as shown through Judas’ perspective. Judas can also be seen as he central character through the fact that in the film, Judas is the one resurrected, and not Jesus, as it is more commonly shown. Whether Judas’ reappearance after death is Jesus’ dream or, as some have put it, Satan himself appearing to Jesus to taunt him, Judas uses this last song of his to interrogate Jesus as well as apologise for what he did. Judas doesn’t get to apologise in the Bible, he is just said to have hanged himself and that was the end of biblical Judas. Judas in this film is not the hero, but he is more of one than Jesus is shown to be. Jesus, with his short temper and doubting faith, seems to be more of a villain than Judas in this film, showing how Judas’ point of view presents a unique take on the constantly retold biblical story.

In conclusion, Judas in the Bible can be compared to his counterpart in Jesus Christ Superstar (1973) to reveal some in depth conclusions about his character and reactions to it. While the film may not change too much of the narrative presented to us in the Bible, Norman Jewison fills in gaps surrounding Judas’ thought processes and motivations as a complex character and puzzle piece in Jesus Christ’s last week alive. We are given the ending we expect to see but with new depth and details, which is what a successful rendition of a biblical tale, like Jesus Christ Superstar (1973), should aim to do.

[1] This is reminiscent of the Greek myth of Cassandra, who was a prophet that no one listened to before she was killed; She is known as a central figure of epic tragedy, which shows how clearly Judas’ portrayal in Jesus Christ Superstar (1973) is one of the most tragic nature, emphasising how the complexity of this version of Judas is a stark contrast to the two dimensionality of Biblical Judas.

Today’s advent student offering is a marvellous essay written by THEOREL 101 student Wen-Juenn Lee. Wen–Juenn is a third year student majoring in English Literature and Media Studies. She tells me that she likes to read, write and discuss everything related to Harry Styles being a contemporary messiah. But, for her Bible and Pop Culture essay, she tore herself away from Harry and wrote this excellent piece on that most enigmatic biblical figure – Salome. Read on, and enjoy.

The Dance of Seduction: the Power of Popular Culture on Shaping the Portrayal of Mark’s Dancing Daughter in the Bible

by

Wen-Juenn Lee

Although religion and popular culture are often perceived as two distinct categories, the relationship between the Bible and popular culture has often been dynamic. This is seen in the biblical portrayal of Herodias’ dancing daughter in Mark, and her subsequent afterlives in film, literature and art. As society alters and gives meaning to biblical characters in a way they can understand, we see the dialectic process in which popular culture, societal attitudes and religion shape one another in an ongoing evolution.

In Mark 6:21-29, Herodias’ daughter danced before King Herod and his guests, which delighted the King. As a reward, he offered her “anything you like and I will give it to you.” Herodias, furious that John the Baptist had condemned Herod’s marriage to Herodias, told her daughter to ask for John’s head. So the daughter requested, “I want you to give me John the Baptist’s head, immediately, on a dish.” In front of his guests and in swearing an oath to the girl, Herod was reluctant to break his promise to her. So Herod sent his guard to execute John, and to bring his head on a dish.

As Mark simply referred to the dancing daughter as “daughter of Herodias,” inevitable gaps surrounding the daughter’s identity and motivations emerge. In Flavius Josephus’ historical account The Antiquities of the Jews, a stepdaughter of Herod’s is referred to as Salome. (Book XVIII, Chapter 5, 4) In this way, people came to identify Salome as the same person as the dancing daughter, explaining why the daughter is only ever referred to as Herodias’ daughter and not Herod’s. Thus, the dynamic between “Herodias’ daughter” and Herod becomes a crucial factor in the way artists and writers understood Salome’s dance. According to Josephus, Salome was born around 14 A.D and married twice. Her name, deriving from the Hebrew word Shalom, means peace. Her status as a daughter of a queen, and eventually becoming queen herself, gives her a position of relative power, not to mention indicating her wealth.

Nevertheless, apart from these few inferences we can make, information about Salome, and the dance she became associated with, are scarce and few. Referred to as “the girl”, Salome’s age when she performed the dance could range from a pre-pubescent to a young adult. Her personality, which may have contributed to her motivations to dance, remain unstated. Thus, society is fascinated with a character and a dance about which there is has virtually no historical information. Furthermore, the question of Salome’s motivations for performing her dance, and in obeying her mother to ask for John the Baptist’s head, remains a mystery. In both Mark and Matthew, Herodias tells Salome to ask for John the Baptist’s head, but Salome is the one who makes the specific request “I want you to give me John the Baptist’s head, immediately, on a dish.” In asking for John the Baptist’s head, specifically “on a dish”, was Salome merely obeying her mother, or did she have personal investments in asking for his head?

Gustave Moreau, L’Apparition (c.1876)

A hugely significant force that influenced society’s perception of Salome was Gustave Moreau’s L’Apparition, where Salome is interrupted by an apparition of John the Baptist’s head in the climax of her dance. Although the Bible does not describe Salome’s dance, Moreau interprets it in an extremely sexualised manner. Using Jospheus’ report, Moreau understood Salome as a step-daughter dancing sexually in front of her king. A languid leg peeks out from behind the sheer fabric of her dress, and an outstretched arm directs us to the decapitated head of John. Her body, twisted at the waist, directs the male gaze to her fully frontal and almost nude torso. Crowned with ostentatious jewels and Byzantine-like patterns on her skirt, Salome reinforces Western attitudes on the eroticised and oriental ‘Other’ (Said). The power of the gaze is extremely important in L’Apparition.

Moreau’s L’Apparition, detail

Expressionless, Salome’s eyes directly meet John’s bloody head, floating in mid-air. His mouth is open in horror, while his eyes beseech and plead for Salome’s mercy. In the background, Herod, Herodias and the executioner gaze oblivious to the head of John the Baptist, while a performer looks off in the distance. While everyone averts their eyes, thereby averting their responsibility in the beheading, Salome’s expressionlessly gazes up to meet her victim’s, confirming her guilt. In depicting Salome as defiantly staring at the man she is about to behead, Moreau puts her at the forefront of the beheading, cutting out Herodias and Herod’s responsibility in John’s beheading. In this way, the nature of Salome’s dance changes. Salome is not a pawn who obliviously follows her mother’s orders, but a femme fatale who uses her sexuality to intentionally charm Herod, and simultaneously bring the downfall of a holy man. Like Eve tempting man to sin, Salome dances to ‘charm’ the King, “indifferent, irresponsible, insensible, poisoning,” to the consequences of her actions (Huysmans, 24).

Barry Moser, Salome kissing the head of Iokanaan (2011)

In this way, the gaps of Salome’s dance and character in the Bible are filled in inadvertently by 19thcentury attitudes towards female sexuality. A dancing female who then follows her mother’s request for the beheading of a man can only be understood in one way; sexualised, immodest and manipulative. Moreau interprets Salome as solely guided by her sheer, destructive lust, an ‘enchantress’ intentionally wreaking havoc through dance. Similarly, Oscar Wilde expanded on Salome as evil seductress, seen in his L’Apparition-inspired play Salomé. Salomé, in love and spurned by John the Baptist, kisses John’s mutilated head after the climax of her vengeful dance. In this way, Moreau twists the biblical Salome to become the ultimate metaphor of destructive female sexuality, a metaphor that artists used to perpetuate patriarchal attitudes towards women. Merely referred to as “daughter of Herodias”, she is twisted into a sexualised step-daughter whose “dance”, barely described in the Bible, is interpreted as sexually manipulative. This is what shapes Salome’s appearance and personality, presented as a dark haired “exotic” temptress that is equally seductive as she is destructive.

Salome in True Blood (HBO)

More recently, Salome emerges in HBO’s Television Series True Blood, as an elite and powerful vampire and leader of the antagonist group “The Authority.” Speaking to, and engaging in, conversation with her portrayal in the Bible and in art, Salome says, “They made me a convenient villain, a symbol of dangerous female sexuality. But I was just a girl with a severely f**ked up family.” In this way, Salome presents herself as a victim, one who was “just a girl” as opposed to the sexually developed femme fatale Moreau portrays her as. Instead, “they wrapped me up and delivered me to my step-father’s bed,” which was a “dance, of sorts.”

Thus, Salome is portrayed as a pawn in which her mother “trades” her body in exchange for John the Baptist’s head. The syntax of “wrapped me” and “delivered me” stresses Salome’s passiveness in the face of her mother’s schemes. Helpless to the politics and “f**ked up family” she is a part of, Salome has no personal motivations in “dancing” in front of King Herod, or in asking for John the Baptist’s head. Instead, Salome is coerced by a heartless mother, and taken advantage of by her lustful step-father; the victim of the “dance” as opposed to its perpetrator. Thus, Herod and Herodias become the vilified agents that drive Salome’s dance and John the Baptist’s beheading. Although Salome’s dance is interpreted with an underlying sexual nature like Moreau’s L’Apparition,True Blood uses the “metaphorical” dance of coercive sexual intercourse to highlight Salome’s vulnerability as a victim of the sexual act, cementing her empathy with the audience. Bill’s horror, depicted in a close up shot of his face, and Salome’s own suppressed emotions reinforce the empathy we are meant to feel for her.

Salome and Bill, in True Blood (HBO)

But as quickly as True Blood tries to deconstruct Salome as dancing femme fatale, it perpetuates it. Salome uses her sexuality as a tool for power, in gauging the trustworthiness of Bill and Eric, and in coercing them to join “The Authority.” Her attempts and success, in seducing both Bill and Eric, are depicted as calculative and insidious, rather than acting out of genuine affection. Meanwhile, Bill and Eric, unaware that the other has been “wooed” by Salome, are depicted as helpless victims in the face of Salome’s aggressive sexuality: “She gets what she wants.” The gratuitous panning shot over Salome’s nude body as she slowly disrobes in front of Eric parallels Moreau’s male gaze, directing our attention to Salome’s breasts and hips. Staring at Eric as she undresses, Salome’s defiant gaze also parallels Moreau’s Salome, depicting her sexual agency as diabolical through the power of her gaze. Clothed in black lace and pink silk, Salome’s dark hair, red lipstick and heavily accented speech reinforces her depiction as a “foreign” femme fatale, who uses her sexuality to bring about the downfall of men. As Bill and Salome become lovers, Salome is depicted as bringing about Bill’s moral downfall, coercing him to do increasingly immoral acts. Urging Bill to feed on a pregnant women, and causing him to betray his best friend, Salome “taints” Bill’s moral compass, threatening his notions of good and evil. In this way, Salome embodies the stereotype she claims not be, seducing men for her own evil purposes.

Sexualised Salome in HBO’s True Blood

On the one hand, then, True Blood seeks to dismantle the patriarchal interpretation of Salome as destructive femme fatale, by offering an alternative interpretation of Salome as victim, rather than perpetrator of a dance that caused John the Baptist’s beheading. Echoing mainstream feminist thought, Salome draws attention to the misogynistic portrayals of women in art: “I became a convenient symbol of dangerous female sexuality.” But the on the other hand, Salome as victim also has the danger of perpetuating gendered stereotypes. She must either be a damsel in distress or a manipulative whore, there is no in between. True Blood, reflecting wider Hollywood discourses, still relies on simplified and dichotomous understandings of female sexuality to interpret and depict Salome’s dance; as a virtue, with Salome as victim, or as a sin, with Salome as sexual agent. Either way, Salome’s physicality, as an object to be dressed in revealing clothes, and to be gazed at with long panning shots, perpetuates society’s hyper-sexualised treatment of female bodies; Salome, as a biblical dancing woman, is part of that. Perhaps “a progressive straight feminist reading…is actually impossible in light of the heavy misogynist cultural burden the Salome figure has carried for almost two thousand years” (Dierkes-Thrun, 201). Thus, True Blood’s Salome reflects conflicting attitudes towards female sexuality, shaped by a society whose own negotiations with gender and sexuality attempt to be progressive, but are equally influenced by lingering, traditional ideologies.

True Blood‘s Salome – sexy and terrifying

From the gaps that emerge in Salome’s depiction in the Bible, her motivations to dance, and her responsibility in John the Baptist’s beheading, popular culture understands and depicts Salome’s motivations and character as a hyper-sexualised femme fatale, reflecting the varying and sometimes conflicting attitudes towards female sexuality. As L’Apparition and True Blood shows us, popular culture has the ability to adapt and shape Salome, through contemporary cultural attitudes that transgress the ambiguous and sometimes static depiction of a character in the Bible.

As promised yesterday, today’s Advent offering stays with that most fascinating biblical character – Delilah from Judges 16 – turning to look at one of her most iconic afterlives in popular culture, played by Austrian actor Hedy Lamarr in Cecil B. DeMille’s classic movie Samson and Delilah (Paramount, 1949).

Danger and desire: there is a sizzling passion between Samson and Delilah, but what is Delilah holding behind her back?

Lamarr, an actor already ‘notorious for being notorious’ (Llewellyn-Jones 2005) due to her somewhat risqué film career to date, seems to have been the perfect choice for playing the part of DeMille’s captivatingly gorgeous Delilah. Wanting to make sure she looked the part, he instructed Hollywood costume designer Edith Head to make sure Lamarr’s Delilah embodied ‘biblical glamour’ (two words you don’t usually see in the same sentence).

Costume sketch by Edith Head for one of Lamarr’s Delilah costumes – see the finished product below.Another sketch by Edith Head for Samson and Delilah (1949)

And certainly, Head appears to have risen magnificently to DeMille’s challenge. Lamarr’s costumes are a triumph of exotic glamour, with their rich fabrics, jewel tones, and swirling drapes that reveal the maximum of flesh, while (barely) keeping within the strict Hollywood Production Code rules of the day. Like the plethora of femmes fatales who were appearing in the films noir of this period, Lamarr offers us a Delilah who is beautiful, beguiling, sensual, irresistible, and therefore utterly lethal. Her dangerousness lies in her seductive power, the way she captivates Samson, leaving this Hebrew strongman powerless to resist her sexual charms. And, while Lamarr alone is enough to make anyone swoon, her gorgeous costumes throughout this movie only accentuate her ravishing allure, guaranteeing that both Samson and her audience will gaze upon her with an unsettling and stomach-churning sense of danger and desire.

Lamarr on the set of Samson and Delilah (1949) – this is her ‘haircutting’ outfit, where she first drugs Samson’s wine before cutting his hair while he sleeps (see original sketch above). Photo by Hulton Archive/Getty Images.Exotic and erotic biblical glamour: Lamarr in another of Head’s designs. I seriously love these shoes (Photo by Hulton Archive/Getty Images)The famous peacock dress, worn by Delilah to the temple of Dagon, where, according to DeMille, she and Samson die together. In Judges 16, Delilah’s fate is never mentioned (photo by Hulton Archive/Getty Images).Photo by Hulton Archive/Getty Images

This final image is a favourite of mine. Just look at Lamarr’s sumptuous surroundings, her extravagant gold dress and jewels, the flashes of red in her accessories (and lips!) that alert us to her sexual lethality. Deliciously decadent, dangerous, and desirable, she really is that quintessence of the 1940s Hollywood femme fatale.

For more details on Edith Head’s ‘fashioning’ of Delilah, see this fascinating chapter: